


By the Way

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-01-27 18:23:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21396634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: The problem with being secretly in love with your best friend is you never know when you might accidentally let it slip....Now with Chapter Two, the next morning, from Danny’s perspective.Rating adjusted to M.
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 36
Kudos: 472





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ymas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ymas/gifts).

> In my story [“When I Break,”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15833292) Steve has this moment where he’s justifying to himself why he can’t just tell Danny he’s in love with him, and he jokes to himself that it’s not like he can say “Hey buddy, we've got a case, oh and by the way, I'm completely in love with you.”
> 
> Well, Ymas read it recently and wrote to me: _I actually think that would work quite well!_
> 
> To which I replied: _Lol. Pretty sure it would piss Danny off Bc *timing* BUT of course now I wanna write that..... *dangit*_
> 
> Um, so, that’s why this little bit of silliness happened. (And that is why comments can be dangerous things..... ;-) 

It was one of those middle of the night cases. That’s why it happened. He’s sure of it. It was the only way it made sense. Even then it barely made sense.

Danny’d blinked. Like five times. Turned around and gotten dressed. Grabbed his badge and his gun. Locked his door. Handed Steve the keys. And not. Said. A word.

That was, at this point? Uhhh, five hours ago? Five hours since Steve had shown up on Danny’s door step and rather than simply saying “Let’s go, we got a case,” had stood there sort of stammering, breath stolen from his lungs by the sheer beauty that is a sleep tousled Danny, and added, “_And... and—I’m so in love with you_.”

Steve’s pretty sure his heart still hasn’t restarted beating. He thinks he’s breathing, but he’s not really drawing air, so it’s not exactly helping. 

He is absolutely paying attention to the case though. He’s poured all his attention-paying into the case, in fact, because each time he starts to think about what he said and how Danny reacted (or more to the point _didn’t_ react), well each time he starts to think about it he starts to panic. So he’s really giving this case his all. It’s just kinda too bad it’s not a more interesting case. He’s pretty sure the rest of the team think he’s being really weird. Tani keeps looking at him like she’s about to tell him to chill the heck out, and he thinks Lou is _this_ close to actually punching him. Junior is essentially ignoring him, and Adam just looks worried, which is worse. But he can’t quite bring himself to be that upset about what they might be thinking, to be honest. He’s much more concerned with what Danny thinks. And that. Well, that he has absolutely no idea about. Because nothing in anything Danny’s done has given even an inch of his thinking away. Not one inch. 

Which is weird enough on its own to be honest. Because think about it. It’s ordinarily really hard not to be completely aware of every reaction Danny has. Especially about Steve and his thoughts and actions. But in this context it’s even weirder. Because it’s not exactly every day your partner confesses his love for you. 

It’s not the way he would have done it, if he’d meant to—which he hadn’t. He hadn’t meant to ever let that slip. He’d fully planned on going to his grave with it.

But if he _had_ planned on doing it, he’d have done much better.

Maybe over dinner somewhere fancy. Or after a cookout on the beach. Or in the morning over coffee and malasadas. While surfing! That would have been good as well. Or even just over pizza and beers and a game—well, not a Jets game, that would be dumb, but maybe a game Danny didn’t care about.

But not in the middle of the night when they have a case and he just blurts it out like an absolute fool.

Isn’t it just the way though. Seriously sometimes he’s such an idiot he could punch himself.

But he’s not thinking about it right now. Right now he’s thinking about the case. Well, about the case and about food, because he hasn’t eaten, but more to the point _Danny_ hasn’t eaten, and that’s going to start being a problem. 

He’s also thinking about how Junior’s been a little off lately, and maybe Tani knows why, but he can’t ever get them apart long enough to ask. He’s thinking about Lou—he’s been wanting to check up on his search for a smaller place, ask how the kids are doing. And Adam, he should do drinks with just Adam soon, make sure he’s not spending too many nights home alone (he knows firsthand how dangerous that can be when you’re nursing a broken heart). And he should definitely check in with Jerry. He’d said he would.

Thing is. It’s always been easy for Steve to lose himself in thinking more about other people than his own worries. The only problem is, he’s never had a worry quite like this before. Never one that mattered quite so much to him.

He’s actually kind of terrified.

It doesn’t help that Danny’s not acting at all like anything unusual’s happened. Steve’s not once today caught Danny giving him a weird look. Not while he drove half way across the island, in near-to-complete silence, not while he drove the rest of the way to the windward side in even greater silence. Not when they got stuck in traffic and Steve decided to wait it out rather than do something reckless like drive on the sidewalk or something. Not even when he’d stopped for coffee—because the case was going way too slow and they were yawning way too much.

He really should have at least made Danny eat a muffin, his stupid _no food in the new car for at least the first six months_ rule being utterly dumb and pointless—what were the chances the thing would get blown up first anyway? 

He really should have done _something_.

He really should have kept his damn mouth shut.

But he didn’t. And now here they are. Hours after he blurted out his dumb confession, and not a word said about it. Steve is starting to hope the ground will open up and swallow him. Or that the case will present an opportunity for him to go out in a blaze of self-sacrificing glory. He’s always up for that, god knows. But now? Today? He’s itching for it. Especially this day. This... whatever the fuck you wanna call today. 

Fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, the case kind of ramps up after that, and Steve doesn’t get much time for obsessing over his accidental confession. He also doesn’t get a chance for sacrificing himself in some grand dramatic gesture. He _does_ get an especially nice leap off a tall structure and a cat-like landing with only a bit of a roll in the mud. It earns him not the usual stream of complaints from Danny, but simply a mild eye roll. Which is interesting, but Steve doesn’t have any idea what to make of it. So he lets it go. But it pulls at the back of his mind for the rest of the case nonetheless. 

By the time everything is wrapped up and they’re headed home (Danny driving because Steve’s landing maybe wasn’t as graceful as he let on and of course Danny noticed), they’re simply too tired, too drained, and Steve has no mental energy left to even begin to sort out the mess he’s made. Danny for his part is still showing no sign of even having processed what Steve said.

They don’t talk at all the whole drive to Steve’s place, but honestly he doesn’t really mind. Obviously they both need to sleep. It would be dumb to talk about this now. While they’re filthy and hungry and exhausted. But still, he had hoped....

There’s one moment, when Danny pulls up at Steve’s place, one moment he thinks Danny might say _something_, even if it’s just “We’ll talk about it later.” But he doesn’t, he just sits there, expression blank and unreadable. Exhausted, but something else as well, something slightly buzzing, but with no edge in, no cover to lift, no way to explore. So Steve gives up. He sighs and gets out of the car and heads, alone, up the path. 

Danny waits till he’s got the door open, idling the car but not pulling away, and maybe that gives Steve a tingle of expectation. He looks back to see that this really is how they’re leaving it, and he sees Danny watching him. Finally. After all day? He’s finally _watching_ him, those intense, searching eyes dancing as though suddenly they’ve come alive. As Steve waits—breath held, hoping—Danny’s tired, grumpy face breaks into a huge, bright, sunshiny grin.

“By the way, babe,” Danny calls as he throws the Camaro into reverse. “I’m in love with you too.” And he drives off before Steve can even think to react. Fucking literally into the goddamn sunset.

He stands there for a long minute, stunned into a kind of woozy paralysis. It’s probably exactly what Steve deserves, Danny’s reaction. In fact, now his brain’s started kicking back into gear, it makes so much sense, he almost thinks he should have seen it coming. If he weren’t so damn tired, he’d laugh. As it is, he has just enough strength to make it upstairs, throw his filthy clothes on the bathroom floor, shower mostly thoroughly, climb into bed still wet, and set his alarm for extra early—so he can go get coffee and malasadas before heading over to Danny’s, to try the whole “love confession” thing again. 

The right way this time. 


	2. The Next Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Now with Chapter Two**, the next morning, from Danny’s perspective.
> 
> Rating adjusted to M.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because everyone had asked for more, and I finally found “more” I was glad to give. 

It’s amazing, really. That he slept at all.

The drive home had been... exhilarating. Like this wash of feeling flooded out of him as he drove, trailing behind him, leaving him cleansed, transformed, enlightened. Not to mention _lightened__. _And not that giddy _I can’t believe I’ve done this_ kind of light. Not _I might pass out_ light. But like the weight of the past, the weight and sorrow and pain... had, what? Not even “lifted,” but maybe simply dissolved away. Completely away.

_Exhilarating._

He’d showered. Eaten a little something. And fallen into bed, thinking (because he _hadn’t_ been thinking, up to that point) that he might just lie there all night, staring at the ceiling, just _thinking._

So he was just as surprised as anyone when he opened his eyes to the light of day, and to Steve, sitting on his bed, the smell of coffee and warm, sweet dough swirling in the air around him, as though he were some kind of mystical manifestation of Danny’s wildest dreams, conjured up out of his sleep-addled mind.

“Um.”

“Uh-uh, coffee first.”

So here’s a problem. There’s... well. Which do you pick? The desire for a clean mouth, the demand for coffee... or, you know, hiding versus revealing the obvious effects of some rather suggestive dreams and the situation of the man of your dreams (yes in that sense as well) appearing in your bed, waking you from sleep with your favorite coffee and mala-freaking-sadas.

“Can every day start like this?”

Steve chuckles. Hands Danny the coffee, then opens the pink box to display two of each of three kinds. Plain sugar. Li hing. And two cream filled, with any luck it’ll be macadamia.

Danny settles for skipping the minty start. The caffeine will burn most of it out anyway, and maybe li hing has cleansing powers.

Steve hands him a napkin. Sits back a bit. Like he’s watching.

Which is... well, okay, it’s not like Steve doesn’t ordinarily make a habit of watching Danny. Probably more than is... normal? But there’s a new edge to it this morning.

Thing is.... It’s not the edge Danny would have expected. Not that he’d thought about it. Because he’d fallen asleep before he’d gotten any thinking done. And ordinarily he’d be pretty upset about that, upset to find himself suddenly in this watershed moment having not at all thought his way through it. But the thing is, maybe it’s actually good that he didn’t have thinking time. Because now he has no choice but to respond, from his half-sleepy, only just awake, filters and “shoulds” and “shouldn’ts” not yet online, I’ve-no-choice-but-to-be-honest, state. 

Which could be an asset or it could spell disaster. 

Steve, it should be noted, is not drinking coffee. He’s clearly already had his. Probably already swam, showered, _brushed his teeth_....

“...Not fair,” Danny mutters, through the flecks of li hing-spiked sugar clinging to his lips as he sucks off his fingers, and the second half of the thought about clean teeth manages to slip out between the not-yet sealed cracks in his very reluctant to load self-censoring program.

“What’s not fair, buddy?” Steve asks, tone all soft and warm and fondly amused, accepting, as his accustomed duty, Danny’s used napkin. He’s more than a little familiar with half-awake Danny, after all. Familiar with half-awake, half-asleep, half-mad with rage, half-frozen with terror, half-gone with grief... Steve has, quite literally, seen it all. 

And... _he’s still here._

Which, maybe it’s a good thing those filters aren’t up and running yet, because it makes it so easy to see... with that fizzy, half-giddy clarity, bubbling up from inside him... that’s exactly it. That’s exactly everything, right there. That’s why. Not that Danny needed a _Why_ to love a man like Steve McGarrett. God, the man himself is reason enough. But it’s _why it matters to Danny. _So much, on so deep a level. Because Steve has seen it all and not only has he stayed, he’s come back. And he’s stood by him and he’s stood up for him and he’s stood with him. And that’s not been something Danny’s heart had thought was humanly possible. 

But it is. And it’s been here all along.

He takes a sip of his coffee, turns to set it down on the bedside table, using the excuse of his back being turned to swish the coffee around his mouth as best he can. When he turns back around, it’s to see that Steve, maybe because he’s used to reacting to whatever Danny telegraphs with his body language, has closed the lid on the box, set it aside, and is in the process of moving closer. 

Which just means that the speed with which they collide is doubled, and maybe that’s why they topple over, rather than manage to stay upright, and when Steve lands across Danny’s lower half he lets out the most delectable sound of frustrated need, and suddenly messy awkward toothy kisses melt into deep, communicative explorations with tongues that have always been so barbed perhaps because they longed precisely for this.

And maybe it’s the sugar flooding his system, but this well of giddy energy swells in Danny’s gut and swirls up through his insides, and he’s certain it’ll come out as a burst of laughter, but instead it’s this amazing effusion of pleasure, and maybe it’s nothing to do with sugar at all, and oh my god this is not going to last long. It’s as though all that energy from the day before, the effort it took, not reacting to Steve, the entire fucking day, like it’s all rebounding on him right this very moment. Like, centered right fucking in his dick. 

“Ungh, babe,” he grunts, and pushes at Steve, wanting, no needing, to be on top, because as stunningly pleasurable as it is, being pressed into the mattress by the mass that is Steve’s trained, honed, muscular body, Danny needs movement. He needs leverage. He needs fucking access.

Steve, fortunately, understands “Danny,” and he complies nearly instantaneously, pulling Danny on top of him and undoing his pants at the same time as Danny yanks his own tee shirt off, and when Danny sees Steve’s eyes flash at the expanse of his own very well toned thank you very much chest, he nearly comes on the spot.

Because god, being seen by Steve, really seen by him, shit, it’s the most powerful, most empowering thing Danny thinks he’s ever experienced in bed. And that... well, it switches things just a little. Because just as much as Danny had been straining at his own skin all throughout the day yesterday, Steve had likewise been kept on some eternal precipice of tension, of longing, of desire, of unknowing. And Danny realizes. That energy. That trapped, simmering, cycle of steam... ohhh that’s something Danny can work with. So he slows. He slows but doesn’t stop. Keeping up continual movement, just not quite _enough_ movement. And right away he sees it working. Steve’s eyes practically roll back in his head as he lets himself be controlled by Danny. Which, that right there is so fucking telling isn’t it.

Danny works his way under Steve’s shirt, pushing it up, sliding his hands along the smooth, hot skin, wanting to nestle in, settle into that warmth and not ever leave. He lifts his hips and wiggles, and Steve takes the hint and tugs Danny’s boxers down enough he can squirm out of them, then he sets a steady but still placid pace exploring the plains of Steve’s body. 

The scars are too numerous this close. Danny remembers many of them, but there’s a surprising number he doesn’t recognize, and he feels the regret of that. As if he’s missed things he shouldn't have. And maybe some have always been there he’s just never noticed because he’s never licked Steve’s skin before (oh god why has he never licked Steve’s skin before). But some, some he’s afraid he just wasn’t aware of. He’d been distracted, mentally or emotionally elsewhere, and Steve had gotten hurt and been patched up and Danny had missed it. He doesn’t want that ever to happen again, and if those licks become kisses leaning more toward bites, well maybe he’s making promises to Steve’s body from his own that Things Will Be Different now. There’s no hiding this now. There’s no hiding anything anymore.

Now they’re basically rutting against each other, but Steve’s pants aren’t off, and Danny wants more so he moves away to pull them down, and Steve goddamn nearly howls at the loss of Danny’s body on his, which maybe tempts Danny, sets the idea into his head, because when he works his way back up, he stops to demonstrate one of his prouder skill sets, and takes Steve fully in his mouth in one swift motion, and swallows, and Steve really does howl this time, and pushes at Danny and of course he understands, neither of them will last more than ten seconds of that, but the effect is so fucking nearly the same when he dives back into Steve’s mouth, thrusting their now freed cocks together and oh god it’s sheer bliss. Utter freed gliding pleasure, and Danny’s never been fond of flying but oh my god that’s what this feels like. 

Steve’s untrapped legs come up around Danny and pin him to him, thrusting upwards in the most athletic display of need and longing Danny’s ever had the delight to be part of, and he thinks that will do it, that will end him, but it’s Steve pulling back to fix his eyes on him, looking so rawly all the way into Danny’s soul, and breathlessly whispering “god I love you,” as he thrusts once more, and it’s Danny’s turn to whimper as he feels Steve spurt almost violently against his belly, against his dick, and Danny falls onto those precious lips once more and gasps out his own release as Steve shudders still from his own, and it’s entirely possible Danny blacks out just for a split second, because time sure fucking feels disjointed.

He’s aware again, as he notices Steve petting him. Brushing the sweaty hair out of his face. Not making any uncomfortable motions, not squirming in irritation at the mess squished between them, not rushing to clean up. Not having any kind of post-organismic panic. Just purely petting Danny down from his own mind-blowing climax.

“So,” Steve says, once it’s clear Danny’s inhabiting his body once more. “I’m in love with you and I want to be with you. I had words practiced, but....”

“This was better,” Danny pants, laughing, and feeling Steve’s return chuckle through their bodily contact.

“Yeah,” Steve says, pulling Danny up and in for a kiss. “This was definitely better.”


End file.
